


I'm Not Here to Eat Your Fuckin' Baked Goods

by IanRightsOnly



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22291801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IanRightsOnly/pseuds/IanRightsOnly
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Ian has taken on extreme baking in an attempt to keep busy while Mickey is away. He's unaware that Mickey has a few surprises up his sleeve.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 25
Kudos: 409





	I'm Not Here to Eat Your Fuckin' Baked Goods

Christmas has never been a consistent holiday in the Gallagher household. Growing up, it was always Fiona who did her damnedest to make sure that her younger siblings had gifts from Santa year after year, no matter the circumstance. 

Over the years, though, things became a bit less predictable. At least one sibling was almost always missing due to work or other obligations. Frank, generally speaking, was usually absent too. Most years, Ian found it doubtful that Frank even realized it was December.

Sometimes they celebrated with Kev and V at the Alibi, sometimes they didn’t really celebrate at all. One time, Mandy kept watch while Lip and Ian chopped down a small evergreen tree from a backyard several streets away. They quickly dragged it back to the house in a wheelbarrow, despite a very brief scolding from Fiona. She had been impressed though, Ian was convinced. 

This year is different though, in some big ways. There’s a newfound feeling of stability that Ian never really had before. He feels good, healthy. He’s working full-time as an EMT and they even gave him a few days off, which is a miracle in itself. And the biggest difference? He’s married now.

Ian isn’t completely sure what normal, stable adults do around Christmas. So he bought a Christmas tree last week because that seemed to make sense, and he considers that to be a small step up from stealing one out of a neighbor’s yard back when he was a teenager. They set it up beside the fireplace; spent a day decorating it with twinkly lights and ornaments, both old and new. He also bought cozy new bedsheets and a fuckload of cookie dough. 

Everything feels pretty close to perfect in his domestic, almost mundane little bubble. The only thing missing is Mickey. Except, Mickey being away puts such a glaringly obvious empty hole in Ian’s life that the only thing he’s feeling is hopelessly lonely. Because Jesus, Ian is such a fucking sap but he misses him so much. Christmas is just another day, but Ian isn’t enjoying his time off without Mickey there. Which not only makes him a sap, it makes him a goddamn _clingy_ sap. It’s their first Christmas as a married couple and no matter how cliche, he just wants Mickey home with him. 

But Mickey is a good brother, and Mickey went to help Mandy move into a new apartment so she could get away from some douchebag that she’d been dating for the last five months. It just wasn’t the kind of thing that could wait. The more Ian thinks about it, the more he’s not sure why he didn’t push harder to go. Except Mickey told him no.

It’s been a long time since Mickey last saw Mandy. Hell, it’s been years since Ian last saw Mandy too. But Ian also wanted to spend Christmas with his family, wanted to be with his niece and nephew. Mickey insisted, “ _Stay home, Gallagher. I’ll be home soon.”_

So Ian stayed home. Christmas Eve has gone by uneventfully, which certainly isn’t a bad thing. Ian has been baking all fucking day, with a little bit of help from Liam, who is actually a very methodical baking assistant. Franny helped too, mostly by taste-testing, but Ian figures that counts for something. After six hours of this, Ian’s hair is an unkempt mess and he’s even wearing a stupid apron because he smeared chocolate and icing on two different t-shirts before finally giving in and putting it on. Liam has since taken a plate of cookies over to a friend’s house, and Franny is napping. Ian should probably chill the fuck out and take a nap too.

“You doing okay?” Lip asks, pulling Ian from his thoughts. He sounds concerned, which Ian appreciates, but he also _hates_ people worrying about him. Lip rocks Freddy in his arms, and Ian can’t help but grin back when Fred smiles up at him.

“What's up, little guy?” Ian says as his smile grows wider. He takes Fred from Lip, holding him up high and spinning him around. He beams when Fred giggles at him. My fucking God, Ian figures this must be how the Grinch felt when his heart grew three goddamn sizes. 

Glancing back at Lip, Ian shrugs. “Things could be worse.”

“Could be better,” Lip suggests. Ian isn’t sure if it’s meant to be an argument. “You miss him?”

“Who?” Ian asks dryly, taking a swig of his beer to avoid Lip’s gaze. He sighs as Lip continues to glare at him. 

“It’s okay to miss him, you know,” Lip adds. Ian knows that, but he’s spent most of his life missing Mickey in one way or another. He’s pretty fucking sick of it, honestly. “And it’s also okay to fill that void with frilly shit like baking cookies, if that’s what floats your boat.”

Fair point, Ian knows. Right now, the house looks like a bakery threw up inside of it; with fucking platters of cookies stacked haphazardly all over the kitchen. Chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkles splattered everywhere.

“Clearly I got that memo,” Ian quips. He gestures vaguely to the cookies, keeping Fred cradled against one arm. “By the way, have a cookie. Or… nine.” 

Ian has absolutely no idea what prompted his baking marathon, but he does know Mickey likes cookies, and there’s a lifetime supply waiting for him when he gets back. You’re supposed to eat a shit ton of sweets around Christmas anyway, right? 

Lip takes Fred back from Ian after another moment, setting him down for a nap in the bassinet beside the couch. Ian is standing at the counter facing the back door, about to start organizing cookie trays when it swings open suddenly. There’s a very cold and grumpy looking Mickey standing on the other side, making Ian’s heart all but leap into his fucking throat. Mickey makes a show out of stomping his feet to shake snow off of his boots, finally kicking them off once satisfied that they’re dry enough.

“Mickey?” Ian’s voice comes off like a question. He can’t think of anything else to say, watching as Mickey tucks his beanie into his jacket and hangs it beside the door. He looks up then, meeting Ian’s eyes. 

“Hey,” Mickey says simply, a grin on his face that might as well be an arrow hitting Ian square in the chest. He glances around the room after a second, taking in the assortment of cookies scattered throughout the kitchen. He walks over to Ian, picking up the opened beer beside him and taking a few quick gulps before adding, “The fuck you got goin’ on here, Betty Crocker?” 

Lip scoffs, patting Ian’s shoulder lightly. “He’s been baking to compensate for missing your ass.”

“Wasn’t asking you,” Mickey says sharply, reaching over the counter for a cookie. He chucks it across the kitchen, hitting Lip in the chest as he shuffles to catch it before it falls to the ground. “Fuckin’ stick that in your smart-ass mouth, hm?”

“Mickey,” Ian says in a warning tone, grabbing a spatula and pointing it at him. He realizes how ridiculous it is, as he stands there in his fucking apron trying to appear threatening. Oh well, this is his life now. “Throw another one of my cookies and you won’t fucking get any.”

“From shivs back in prison to kitchen wars with cooking utensils,” Lip states matter-of-factly, shrugging as he heads back into the living room. “It could almost make a good tv show. I can see why you missed him, Ian.”

Ian doesn’t entertain Lip with a reply, glancing back at Mickey instead. He replaces the beer in Mickey’s hand with a new one, taking a sip from his own once he gets it back. He feels warm, and not just because of the alcohol.

“Missed me, huh?” Mickey asks knowingly, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t miss much, though. I spent the last last forty-eight fuckin’ hours listening to my bitch sister’s _GET PUMPED_ playlist and I gotta tell you, it got me pumped for _fuck_ all except gettin’ the hell out of there.”

Ian chuckles, a little pang in his heart making him wish even more that he had gone with him. He takes a step closer, setting his drink down in favor of pinning Mickey back against the counter as their eyes lock together again. “Fuck you for making me think you wouldn’t be back until after Christmas, asshole.”

Mickey licks his lips, gaze moving from Ian’s eyes down to his mouth and back again. “Fuck you back for givin’ me shit right now. You could thank me, you know.”

“I’ll thank you with your choice of cookie,” Ian grins. He slides a hand down the side of Mickey’s body, teasing, resting it on Mickey’s hip. “Unless you have a better suggestion?”

Mickey nods. “You done fuckin’ around or do we have to keep talking about cookies like you don’t wanna get your mouth on me?”

“Easy, Mick,” Ian warns as he digs his fingers further into Mickey’s hip. He leans down to his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “You know once I get my mouth on you, I’m not stopping for the rest of the night.”

Ian feels Mickey’s sharp intake of breath but doesn’t expect to be suddenly pushed backwards, away from the counter and back against the sink. Mickey presses his body into Ian’s, and especially with a few drinks already on board, his resolve is all but ready to crack. 

“So don’t stop,” Mickey challenges. “I’m not here to eat your fuckin’ baked goods, Gallagher.”

Ian shoves Mickey back again, this time a little too hard into the refrigerator. Several magnets fall to the ground behind Mickey, and they’re laughing when Ian finally closes the gap between their lips, kissing Mickey the way he’s been wanting to since he walked through their back door. He licks into Mickey’s mouth, feels himself slipping further away from reality as Mickey moans softly, melting against Ian’s body. 

“No sex in the kitchen,” Debbie says casually, walking passed them to grab a cookie. “I thought we made that a rule.”

“That’s never been a rule in this house,” Ian says, breaking their kiss with reluctance as Mickey groans dramatically. Ian flips Debbie off with a glare, fighting the urge to throw a cookie at her face. Which would be fine since _he_ would be the one doing it and he’s fucking entitled to do so.

Mickey is visibly flustered when Ian turns back to him, chewing at his bottom lip. It’s fucking adorable and really fucking hotin a way that makes Ian feel like his brain is short-circuiting. Mickey is cute as hell when he loses his cool and right now that’s all because of Ian. And even though Ian wants nothing more than to drag Mickey’s ass upstairs and throw him down onto their bed… he can wait. Because they don’t need to rush tonight. 

“Later,” Ian promises, kissing Mickey’s cheek gently. He reaches over several cookie platters to pour two shots of whiskey, offering one to Mickey with a smirk. “Cheers, Mick.”

* * *

Ian is nearly asleep on the couch when a car alarm blares its ugly siren somewhere along North Wallace, shocking him into consciousness. It stops soon after it begins, but the damage is already done. Mickey is also awake, jolted from a cozy sleep tucked against Ian’s chest. He’s instantly on high alert, letting out an irritated huff when he realizes what woke him. Ian figures there’s something about living in fight or flight for most of your life that never completely leaves you in peace.

“Whoever the fuck owns that loud ass car better hope it just got fuckin’ stolen,” Mickey grumbles. 

“Might have been Tami’s,” Ian mutters.

“Okay, well, Tami better hope her loud ass car just got fuckin’ stolen,” Mickey repeats.

Ian ignores him but smiles and leans into his body, still settled against him. They’re snuggled under a fleece blanket, legs tangled together in soft sweatpants. It’s incredibly domestic, and sometimes Ian still can’t quite process that this is finally his and Mickey’s life together. 

Glancing around the living room, Ian realizes the house has long since stopped stirring. Carl is still awake, lounging in the chair opposite the couch and flipping through television channels. There are empty beer bottles and pizza boxes littering the coffee table and floor. And cookies. Still so many fucking cookies. 

“Can we go upstairs now?” Mickey asks suddenly, sounding hopeful. He leans into Ian’s neck, whispering in his ear, “I’m awake. Wanna get in bed and ride the fuck outta you.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Ian groans, his buzz from earlier still kicking and suddenly feeling much stronger. He turns, brushing their lips together. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me.”

It takes them barely ten seconds to say goodnight after that. Carl waves them away absently, and Ian assumes that the rest of his family must already be asleep. Thank God for small fucking favors.

Mickey’s getting naked before Ian can even finish sliding their bedroom door shut, and in another instant he’s shoving Ian against the wall and immediately fumbling with the waistband of his pants. 

“You’re extra slutty when you drink,” Ian comments, stepping out of his sweats easily. He walks Mickey backwards to their bed, staring into his eyes, pushing him until he sits down. 

Ian breaks their eye contact only to remove his shirt, gasping as Mickey immediately grabs for Ian’s waist and pulls him down on top of his body. They fumble for a moment, Mickey trying to flip Ian while Ian fights to stay on top. He pins one of Mickey’s wrists, groaning as Mickey’s free hand grabs at Ian’s hair and pulls. It distracts Ian enough to lose focus, suddenly overpowered when Mickey wraps his legs around Ian’s waist to roll them over. Mickey smirks down at him, satisfied once he’s on top and has Ian pressed back into the mattress. 

“Attaboy,” Mickey teases, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube from their bedside table. Ian narrows his eyebrows, annoyed but stupidly turned on. He fucking loves play fighting and he’s hard as fuck and Mickey knows all of that which is equally as frustrating as it is sexy. “Callin’ me a slut when _you_ fuckin‘ love this shit and you know it.”

“You talk a big game for someone who gets off from hickies and a hand around his neck,” Ian provokes, hands gripping onto Mickey’s hips as he grinds up against the crease of his ass.

“ _Fuck_ , no. Keep your fuckin’ hips still,” Mickey says it like an order, which sends a conflicting shiver down Ian’s spine. _Bossy._ “Let me do the work, bitch.”

Again, hot _._ But Ian wants to fucking drill into Mickey until he’s a whimpering mess against him and he can’t do that when Mickey takes the reins like this. He leans up to kiss him, hands sliding up to cradle the back of his head. Ian slips his tongue passed Mickey’s lips, kissing him deep until he’s got Mickey moaning into his mouth.

“We’ll see,” Ian whispers stubbornly, tugging at Mickey’s bottom lip as he tries to break their kiss. Mickey chases his mouth desperately, diving back in like it’s the only taste he’s ever wanted on his tongue. 

They’re still kissing when Mickey lowers himself onto Ian with a gasp, throwing the lube beside them a little too hard. Ian vaguely registers the thud of it falling off the bed, and it almost makes him laugh until Mickey’s mouth falls open around his and he gasps against his lips. Ian squeezes his eyes shut as Mickey takes a second to adjust, hips rocking from side to side slightly. He lifts himself up and back down quickly, and then it’s Ian who moans a lot fucking louder than he means to.

Ian falls back, flat against the mattress as Mickey repeats the movement, up and down. Once, twice, three times. Ian slides his hands up Mickey’s body, grazes his fingers over his stomach, higher up over his chest. He lets them drift up higher, digging his fingertips across his clavicle and teasing near his neck. He feels Mickey’s sharp intake of breath, feels him starting to melt into his touch. He pulls Mickey towards him just slightly, fighting to keep his hips still to let Mickey have his way. 

And holy fuck, he _does_. Mickey grinds down onto Ian hard, panting a little faster from the effort. He speeds up his movements, fucking himself with a little more force. He’s trying to find that spot, chasing that white hot release that he’s been craving all damn night. Ian can see the strain in his thighs, the sweat forming on his brow, the flush creeping down his neck. Ian feels so fucking good, knows Mickey is loving this. _But_. Ian can make it better. He can make it so much fucking better, because Mickey needs _more_ and Ian certainly never agreed to be obedient tonight.

So Ian tests his limits, just a little bit. He jerks his hips up slightly, watching as Mickey’s eyes fly open. He does it again, a little harder, and takes note as Mickey’s breath hitches.

“Mickey,” Ian says, his voice pleading. “Let me fuck you, Mick, come on.”

Mickey looks into his eyes again, and _fuck_ , that feeling is something Ian won’t ever get enough of. Ian can tell Mickey is trying to make a decision, so determined to finish this on his own. 

“Fuck off,” Mickey groans, grinding down again, rocking and rotating his hips. This time, Ian thrusts up to meet Mickey in the middle, gasping when Mickey practically _yells_ and falls forward, flush against Ian’s chest. Ian wraps his arms around Mickey instantly, fingers scratching down his back. Fuck, okay, yeah. He can work with that. 

Mickey continues to roll his hips against Ian, slower now. His thighs spread further apart, like he’s beginning to get tired and can’t quite hold himself up anymore. 

“ _Mickey_ ,” Ian moans, dragging his tongue down Mickey’s neck below his ear. He feels Mickey shiver, smirking as he digs his teeth in just a little. Mickey gasps, hips stuttering as Ian suctions his lips around Mickey’s skin, sucking and nipping as Mickey bites at his own lip.

“Fuck’s sake, Mick, gonna fuck you right,” Ian stammers, suddenly jerking his hips up against Mickey with enough force to knock the air out of Mickey’s lungs.

It’s a fucking blur after that, as Ian drags his hands up Mickey’s thighs and around to his ass, pulling him closer to fuck into him deeper. He rocks his hips hard and fast up against him, the new angle enough to give Mickey exactly what he needs. Ian sits up further, moving one arm up Mickey’s back, holding him close to steady him and helping to keep their rhythm. 

“ _Ian_ ,” Mickey moans, struggling to find Ian’s lips. “Fuck, oh fuck.” 

It’s the most delicious kind of encouragement, Mickey moaning broken curses into Ian’s mouth. It ignites a fire in the pit of Ian’s stomach, making him realize that he’s getting close. He stills his movements without warning and pushes his weight forward to pin Mickey down, back pressed against the mattress beneath Ian’s body. 

“No fuckin’ way, you goddamn—” Mickey trails off, half-hearted protests quickly replaced with filthy moans as Ian slams back into him without missing a beat, fucking him hard. “— _F_ _uck._ Oh God, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Ian repeats, thrusting as hard as his muscles allow. Ian grabs at Mickey’s throat, closing a hand around his neck just enough to have Mickey seeing stars. “Feel good, Mick?”

It happens quickly from there, Ian hitting Mickey’s prostate thrust after thrust, fingers tightening around his neck. Mickey grabs for Ian frantically, licking into his mouth, practically whining as he reconnects their lips together. Ian feels Mickey’s dick trapped between their bodies, leaking all over his stomach and Ian can tell he’s close. He’s fucking trembling around Ian, shaking strenuously as he throws his head back and arches his back off the mattress. He’s panting when Ian looks at him, mouth hanging open, looking absolutely fucking _wrecked._ It pushes Ian hard over the edge, makes him come deep inside Mickey as Mickey comes hard between their bodies with a weak moan of Ian’s name. 

Jesus Christ, it’s all so _good_. That blissed-out moment after fucking Mickey through both of their orgasms is absolutely fucking euphoric. Ian hears their heavy breathing, feels Mickey’s heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, feels his own heart fighting to beat out of his body. He manages to pull out, sliding off to Mickey’s side but keeping their legs tangled together. His skin is wet and sticky, a combo of sweat and come that Mickey will definitely bitch about later because, _"It'_ _s fuckin’ gross, Ian_." But for now all that comes out of Mickey’s mouth is an out of breath chuckle as if to say, _damn_ , that was good.

Ian buries his face into Mickey’s neck, damp but so, so tasty. He opens his mouth to lick at Mickey‘s salty skin before quietly murmuring, “Sorry, Mick.”

“For fucking _what?"_ Mickey questions, raspy and breathless. Ian wills his body to relax, the broken sound of Mickey’s voice filling him with another wave of desire. “You apologizing for fuckin’ my brains out?” 

Ian smiles, shaking his head. “Not sorry about _that._ For not letting you do it—“

“Do you even know why it’s fun to keep your horny ass still when I’m ridin’ you?” Mickey cuts Ian off, shifting so he’s facing him. He places his hand under Ian’s chin, lifting until he catches Ian’s lips in a kiss. 

“Hmm?” Ian hums, questioning, although it sort of comes out more like a moan in the back of his throat. Mickey smirks against his mouth.

“Gettin’ you so wound up that you can’t hold back anymore,” Mickey admits, still grinning against Ian’s lips. He nips at Ian’s bottom lip playfully, tugging a little roughly between his teeth. “Makes you give it to me so fuckin’ good, man.”

Ian groans, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck to kiss him deeper. _Fucking Mickey._ He smiles, swiping their tongues together. “Mmm, I’ll remember that for next time.”

“I bet you will,” Mickey smiles a dopey grin, making Ian’s heart soar. “Get some sleep, bitch.”

* * *

The sunlight is blinding on Christmas morning when Ian wakes from a very satisfying sleep. It isn’t really a bad thing, waking up to a bright and sunny December sky, but it makes Ian squeeze his tired eyes shut as he buries his face into his pillow. It takes several moments for his mind to wake up, slowly becoming aware that Mickey isn’t by his side.

It feels early, but Ian can’t be sure. There isn’t a clock in their bedroom and he’s about to check his phone but… fuck, his phone is definitely downstairs and probably extremely dead by now. It was certainly not a priority last night. After a few more seconds beneath the warmth of his blankets, he decides to get up.

Ian stretches once out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and a fresh pair of sweatpants. He hears activity downstairs, a combination of voices and laughter making him realize that the rest of his family must already be awake. He yawns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

When he turns the corner to head down the flight of stairs in the back of the house, he nearly collides with a very quiet Mickey who had _clearly_ been putting effort into not making any noise. 

_“Jesus!"_ Ian yells as Mickey jumps back, startled, a cup of coffee sloshing around in each of his hands. Ian reaches for the cup nearest him in a desperate attempt to help keep it from spilling. Their fingers brush together and it makes Ian smile, his free hand clutching his chest as the shock starts to fade. 

“Scared the _fuck_ outta me, man!” Mickey says with a laugh, leaning down to lick up the dribbles of coffee that had splashed onto his fingers. “This is what I get for trying to do something nice for your Sleepin’ Beauty ass.”

“Coffee is your way of doing something nice?” Ian teases, leaning down to kiss Mickey’s cheek. “What, no breakfast in bed?”

Ian couldn’t be less serious, because even the simplest of gestures matter to him, and Mickey has been doing cute ass shit like this constantly. He brings coffee when Ian wakes up late, sometimes leaves water and aspirin on their nightstand after a particularly heavy night of drinking. He writes little reminder notes about shit that he knows Ian won’t possibly remember on his own. And recently? If Ian gets home from work late, at least three times a week Mickey has dinner ready for him. Even if it’s takeout, that shit still counts. It makes Ian feel loved in every way, and it makes him love Mickey even more, too. 

Mickey raises his eyebrows, shaking his head, a knowing smirk on his face. “Haha, very funny, smart-ass.”

“I know we said no gifts, but how lucky am I to be surprised with something as extravagant as _coffee?”_ Ian says with a snarky grin. 

“Wanna tone down that high horse bullshit, bitch?” Mickey says, although there is hardly any bite behind it. There’s a fondness in his voice that Ian doesn’t miss. “Calm down, I got your princess ass a real gift. You’d already know that if you hadn’t slept in until fuckin’ noon.”

Well, fuck. Ian definitely didn’t mean to sleep in _that_ late. He shrugs, his face going from smug and playful to something much more apologetic. Mickey must notice, leaning up suddenly to press a kiss to his lips. “S’okay, man. Most of your family only got up after ten-thirty, anyway.”

Ian follows Mickey down the stairs into the kitchen after that, nursing his coffee. Liam and Carl say hi in unison from their places at the table, causing Franny to look up from her new pile of toys on the floor to wave at him excitedly. Lip and Debbie get up from the couch to join everyone in the kitchen, and Tami waves from the chair near the living room window where she’s rocking a sleeping Freddy. 

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence!” Lip says with a chuckle. He squeezes Ian’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face. “Merry Christmas, dude.”

“Merry Christmas,” Ian smiles back. “Uh, sorry it’s so late. You guys could have gotten me up, you know.” 

“Carl said something about Mickey turning you out last night,” Liam says simply. “After attempting to Google what that meant, I didn’t think you’d want to be bothered.”

Ian raises his eyebrows, staring incredulously at Liam for a few seconds before turning his gaze to their middle brother. “ _Jesus_ , Carl.”

“You guys are fucking noisy,” Carl says with a shrug.

Lip adds, “I think it’d be more accurate to say that Ian turned Mickey out, but—“

“ _Please_ shut the fuck up,” Mickey snaps. “I’m literally begging all of you to shut the fuck up.”

Ian sits down at the kitchen table beside Liam, pointedly ignoring the remainder of the conversation as Mickey continues bickering back and forth with Lip and Carl. He watches as Mickey throws up his middle finger in Lip’s direction before glancing between each of his brothers and catching Liam mid eyeroll. 

“Mickey’s got a big gift for you,” Debbie says suddenly, changing the subject and capturing Ian’s attention. “And it’s been driving me crazy all morning, so—“

“Aye,” Mickey barks, turning towards Debbie and throwing his hands up. “Do I walk around ruining your fuckin’ surprises?”

 _"Sorry,"_ she grumbles, unperturbed as she waves everyone into the living room. 

“What’s the deal here?” Ian questions, hesitant as he stands up, making his way to the other side of the house with the rest of the family. 

Despite their pact of no Christmas presents, Ian is hardly surprised that Mickey got him a gift anyway. There’s a Playstation 4-shaped box under the tree with Mickey’s name on it, and _technically_ that means Ian broke their pact, too. 

“Told you I got you something,” Mickey says. “Sit down, okay?”

So, Ian sits down on the couch. He watches as Mickey leans down to grab a medium-sized box from beside the Christmas tree. It’s not actually wrapped, but instead has a red fleece blanket covering it. 

“You got me a red blanket?” Ian teases, leaning forward on the couch to see what Mickey is doing. 

Mickey carries the covered box to the couch, setting it on the middle cushion next to Ian. “No, asshole. Take the blanket off.” 

Ian nods, reaching for the blanket and meeting Mickey’s eyes for a quick moment. He notices when Mickey’s face softens considerably, like this means so much more to him than Ian realized.

As Mickey waits eagerly, Ian lifts the blanket off the box to peek inside. He’s not at all prepared for the tiny, sleeping puppy that he finds underneath it. Ian gasps without meaning to, reaching out to gently touch the pup’s back before looking back to Mickey.

“Thought you’d like him,” Mickey smiles. Ian thinks he looks almost bashful, like this is a vulnerable moment for him, especially with the rest of the Gallaghers acting as their audience. 

Ian’s sort of speechless as he pets the puppy down his back, nearly melting when he opens his eyes and suddenly bounces out of the box onto Ian’s lap. He’s a pit bull puppy or something similar, bluish-gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s got one brown eye and one blue eye, and a little splash of pink on his nose. He puts two paws on Ian’s chest before biting at his chin, and Ian decides instantly that he fucking _adores_ him.

Mickey moves the box to sit down beside Ian, chuckling when the puppy leaps over to him and licks his cheek. Ian feels like his heart is going to burst. This is by far the cutest shit he has ever seen, suddenly making the idea of _family_ float through Ian's head. It makes his brain feel fuzzy as his heart feels like it's turning to mush. 

“I fucking love him,” Ian says. “I can’t believe you did this. I fucking love _you._ ”

He leans over to kiss Mickey softly, setting a hand on the side of his face. Ian feels the pup licking between both of their chins in another second, and he laughs against Mickey’s lips before pulling back to scoop the tiny dog back into his arms. 

“Love you too,” Mickey says softly. He sits up a little straighter after a moment, like he's trying to preserve any kind of hard exterior that hasn't already be obliterated by this moment. 

"You're gonna grow up to be a big, bad guard dog, huh?" Ian baby-talks the puppy, who is excitedly wagging his tail, paws back up on Ian's chest. "We can teach you to attack Frank, right? Bite at his fuckin' ankles when he tries to steal our bed?"

Laughter breaks out among his siblings as Mickey mutters a quiet, " _Fuck_ _Frank_ " under his breath. Liam and Franny crowd in around Ian's spot on the couch, both petting the puppy who turns to kiss their hands. Ian smiles as the pup scoots closer to Franny, eye-level with her face before licking her cheek as she squeals happily.

"You should pick a name for him," Ian suggests to Franny.

Franny practically beams up at him, face still being smothered with puppy kisses. It looks like she's thinking long and hard about this, having such an important task bestowed upon her. She finally blurts out the name "Pretzel" with an adorably proud smile on her face. Ian chuckles, nodding at her. Pretzel it is.

Ian sets Pretzel on the floor where he and Franny run off to play together as his family starts to disperse throughout the house again. Debbie and Liam return to the kitchen to make brunch, and Tami focuses on feeding Fred while Lip and Carl step outside for some air.

Ian takes the opportunity to give Mickey his new PlayStation, earning himself an excited punch in the arm when Mickey can't control his excitement. It's been years since Mickey last had a gaming system, and he throws himself on the floor almost instantly to start setting it up. Ian crawls over to the television when he notices Mickey is struggling, kneeling beside him.

"Need any help?" Ian asks, amused as he watches Mickey fiddling with different wires and remotes.

"Fuck off," Mickey grumbles. "Used to beat your pretty boy ass at video games all the time, fuck you very much."

"That doesn't mean you know shit about setting the system up," Ian says with a chuckle. "Plus, it's not my fault that you used to distract me."

The gaming screen finally shows up on the television then, causing Mickey to make a scene out of jumping up from the floor and holding his hands up high, all while staring down at Ian. "What'd I tell ya, bitch? And yeah, I know you were distracted. I started fuckin' you so you wouldn't beat my ass at video games."

Ian nods dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I'm so sure that's the reason."

It takes Ian a second to notice that Mickey is still watching him. Mickey drops back down to the floor as soon as he meets Ian's eyes, closing the distance between them with a soft kiss. They're interrupted almost instantly; an over-excited Pretzel once again charging directly at them and jumping onto Mickey's lap. Ian smiles as Mickey lies back, laughing when Pretzel licks all over his face. 

"The fuck you laughin' for? I'm being _attacked_ over here," Mickey groans, out of breath as he gasps through puppy kisses. 

Ian falls backwards beside Mickey, patting his chest and whistling until Pretzel notices and jumps onto him, instead. He scrunches his face through Pretzel's assault of licking, turning his head towards Mickey once the puppy finally settles down.

Mickey is sprawled out next to him, and the look in his eyes reminds Ian of everything he never thought he could have. More importantly, it reminds him of everything that he does have, and will have for the rest of his life.

Christmas has never been a consistent holiday in the Gallagher household, but for the first time in Ian's life, he realizes that it definitely will be from now on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Social media:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ianrightsonly) ♡ [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.qa/IanRightsOnly) ♡ [Tumblr](https://ianrightsonly.tumblr.com)


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